Last weekend, I helped my parents host a two-day yard sale in the house I grew up in, in Queens. They’ve lived there for over 25 years and are downsizing to greener, chiller pastures closer to family. And trust me, this was no ordinary yard sale—my mom’s side of the family comes from a long line of collectors (aka: curators of miscellaneous objects), lovingly passing down random treasures since they bumped into Plymouth Rock.

 

 

Take Brooke, for example. Brooke came back not once, not twice, but thrice—twice on the second day because she literally dreamed about our sale! After meticulously inspecting everything with the precision of an archaeologist, Brooke walked away with a snowboard, a broken guitar, a 7-pound encyclopedia on American Sign Language, a hammerhead shark Beanie Baby, a pair of orange Manolo Blahniks from 1972 (three sizes too big), a sleeping bag, and fresh tomatoes from my mom’s garden. And she couldn't have been happier!

 

All in all, over 300 people came through last weekend, and the crowd just kept multiplying as the yard sale creatures started phoning-a-friend (only after they’d scoured and secured their own treasures, of course). 

 

One older gentleman bought an antique Schlitz beer tray for 5 bucks. He explained that his father had worked at the Brooklyn brewery in 1954 after arriving at Ellis Island from Naples in 1942. For him, that tray wasn’t just a purchase—it was a time machine, a tangible connection to his past and present as an American citizen.

 

Then there were the tweens who scored my old JNCO jeans. Apparently, they’re back in style (who knew?). They were already negotiating how to share their “pirate’s booty,” when I half jokingly said they could probably each fit into either pant leg—which of course they proceeded to attempt…I was right.

 

But the real discovery wasn’t what left the house—it was what we found in the process of clearing out. Boxes of photos and journals (I’ve been writing daily since second grade—take that Julia Cameron!) Flipping through them made me realize how much I’ve evolved, and how our style is shaped by the most unexpected influences—a beloved children's book, a concert poster, or that absurdly oversized pair of jeans.

As a designer and brand strategist, I’ve realized that finding your style isn’t so much about discovering something new—it’s about editing. It’s curating the pieces that matter most and letting go of the rest. Just like a yard sale, clearing out the clutter makes room for the essentials to shine.

 

Here’s the key:

Instead of trying to be “all the things”, lean into what makes you uniquely you. 

That's my story
morning glory!

P.S. If you’re new around here, I'm Olivia, the creative Bonnie to your business Clyde.